


Under The Influenza

by apocryphile



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphile/pseuds/apocryphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna has the flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under The Influenza

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Emily - the closest thing to actually sending Josh to your sickbed.

“Josh, what are you doing here?”

Donna was flushed and bleary-eyed, huddled on the couch under a blanket.

“I cancelled my meetings, I wanted to check on you.”

“You did what?!?!”

Her voice was stuffy and slightly slurred, and he couldn’t quite tell for sure whether her outrage was real or feigned.

“It was nothing urgent, and you sounded pretty miserable.”

“It’s just the flu, I’ll be fine.”

“I know, but right now you’re feeling pretty sick, and I’m here to look after you.”

She looked slightly apprehensive.

“Ok…”

He set two carrier bags down on the coffee table and start pulling out items at random.

“I know you’re supposed to bring chicken soup, but my Mom always made me matzo ball soup when I was sick… I wasn’t sure if you’d like it though, so I got both… and CJ said lemon and ginger tea was good with honey… and Toby suggested whiskey…”

Her eyes widened as she realized that, having no clue what to do, he’d followed everyone’s advice.

“Dr Bartlet said you should switch from to Advil to Tylenol because it’s easier on your stomach, and Sam thought you’d be bored…”

He held up the Post, the Journal, the Times, the Economist and what looked like Foreign Affairs. She giggled at his selection and immediately started coughing. Looking absolutely panicked, he dropped the newspapers all over the floor and rushed to her side. She held up a hand, managing to catch her breath before he completely flipped out.

“I’m OK.”

His brow creased with worry.

“You sure?”

She wrinkled her nose.

“I’ve been better. But it’s not as bad as it sounds, I promise.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“OK… Millie actually said that.”

“You talked to the surgeon general? Josh!”

“She’s my doctor.”

“Yes, because you got shot. I have a virus.”

“I was worried about you!”

She looked at him the same way she had when he’d accidentally told her about his Mom buying him shoes. He still wasn’t entirely sure what it meant.

“I’d hug you right now but I’m probably contagious.”

“I don’t care. If we’re both sick I can stay with you.”

“Josh, you’re a nightmare when you’re sick,” she protested, too sleepy to argue with his logic, but he was already pulling her into his arms. She flopped against his chest, slowly tucking her aching legs under her, hugging his waist.

“This feels really nice,” she mumbled.

She felt him nodding against her head.

"Are you going to drool on me?"

She hit him on the arm. He chuckled.

"That was pathetic. You really aren't well at all."

He leaned back and looked her over.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

She grimaced.

"Frankly, whiskey sounds more appealing right now."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Sometimes I think you spend too much time with Toby."

She managed a weak smile.

"I like him. He's only pretending to be mean at least half the time."

He inclined his head.

"Maybe a quarter of the time. He likes you too, he made me buy you the really expensive and unpronounceable stuff."

"Lagavulin."

"If I give you... that, will you sleep?"

"Josh, you don't have to spoon feed me."

"Maybe not strictly speaking, but it'd be fun."

Shaking her head with a fond smile, she got up to get her own glass - and prove her point - and failed spectacularly on both counts, wobbling dramatically and slumping back onto the couch. When she saw that the colour had drained from Josh's face she gritted her teeth and straightened her back. 

"Pins and needles," she insisted. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are," he countered, a determined look in his eyes. 

Before she could protest, never mind resist, he'd swept her up and was carrying her to her bed.

She tried to apologise for the state of the room but he hushed her and busied himself fluffing her pillows and shaking out the crumpled comforter, tucking her in with the brisk efficiency of an experienced carer and then moving on to the debris littering her nightstand. She watched, fascinated, as he applied his own brand of sideways logic to organising her belongings, and had to clamp her hands over her mouth to stop herself from laughing when he carefully placed her hairbrush atop her stack of George magazines - every issue, including the several he was featured in - and straightened up with a flourish. 

Touched as she was, she decided he needed distracting before he attempted anything risky, like laundry.

"Who did they send you from the temp pool?"

He blinked at her.

"No one."

"Josh..."

"I told them not to. And, seeing as you weren't there, they actually had to listen to me, for once."

"Josh-"

"They scare me, Donna..."

"J--"

"...and they all hate me. They make me talk to peop--"

"JOSHUA!"

His eyes went wide. He folded his lips together, nodding slightly for her to speak.

"Josh, who's answering your phone right now?"

When he didn't answer, she just glared at him until he took out his cell phone, rolling her eyes in exasperation when, instead of the temp pool manager, CJ came on the line.

He drifted into the hallway as he tried to sweet talk her into lending him Carol - or making Toby lend him Ginger - and as soon as he was out of sight Donna gave up pretending upright was a viable option.

When Josh tiptoed back in twenty minutes later, ignoring Margaret on the phone who had appointed herself to both salvage his afternoon's worth of unanswered calls and give him detailed instructions for looking after Donna, he was toting a mug of CJ's tea with a generous shot of Toby's fancy whiskey in it. Finding Donna asleep, he resolved to make her a fresh drink when she was ready, and took a sip.

She woke up to find him lying across the end of her bed, a folder splayed over his face, snoring loudly.

She felt better already.


End file.
